


The Little Girl

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Marauders' Era, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-21
Updated: 2009-02-21
Packaged: 2019-01-19 17:10:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12414417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: Every year, around this time, Lily Evans recalls her tragic childhood. This year, James Potter is here to help her through her memories.





	The Little Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

**The Little Girl  
By: Ts_x_Munchkin**

**Note:** This story was originally posted May 27, 2005 at FF.net, and meant to be a multi-chaptered fic. But going without progress for three years, I left it as a one-shot.  
 **Note 2:** I do not own anything that has to do with the Harry Potter universe. All that credit belongs to J.K. Rowling. Nor do I own the lyrics, those belong to John Michael Montgomery, in his song "The Little Girl".

Lily Evans, current Head Girl, sat alone in the Heads common room. She was deep in thought, staring blankly into the roaring fire in front of her squishy armchair. She was remembering that night. The night it happened. Tonight was the thirteenth year anniversary.

Coming out from her thoughts, she felt someone, or thing, looking right at her. She always knew when someone was looking at her; years of neglect did that to a person. Turning around slowly her emerald eyes locked with the hazel ones of James Potter, her co-head.

After breaking their connected gaze, she turned back to the fire, waiting for the questions. Willing them to come; for she needed to tell someone. Anyone would do, even James Potter.

"Lily, what are you still doing up? Feeling okay?" He asked, moving to sit in the armchair next to hers.

"I can't sleep, I never can on this night. And I'm not okay," she replied, her voice wispy.

"Why not?"

There it was, He was the only person in all the thirteen years to ask why.

"My parents died thirteen years ago tonight."

"Oh- Lily. I'm so sorry. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I'll just-"

Lily cut him off, "I don't want to do a lot of things, but this isn't about wanting. It's about needing. I need to tell somebody."

"I'm here to listen, if you'd like to tell me.."

__**Her parents never took the young girl to church,**  
Never spoke of His name,  
Never read her His word.  
Two non-believers walking lost in this world,  
Took their baby with them,  
What a sad little girl.

"My parents.. They didn't follow religion, like a lot of people do. Since they didn't believe in God, I didn't attend Sunday School. In fact, I didn't go to any type of school at all. They'd both had bad lives, I guess. They'd left their lives prior to each other behind. I never met my grandparents, or any other relatives. I think they hated each other, actually. I think they were only together, living under the same roof, because of me. Because on some level they both loved me, and their only way of showing it was to give me a 'complete' home. Ha! Complete, what a joke."

****_Her daddy drank all day and mommy did drugs._  
Never wanted to play,  
Or give kisses and hugs.  
She'd watch the TV and sit there on the couch,  
While her mom fell asleep,  
And her daddy went out.

"They were so unhappy, being together, that Dad was hardly home. And when he was, they were fighting and hitting each other. But they never yelled or hit me, I think that was how they showed their love for me. But then again, they hardly paid any attention to me. Mum never played games with me, or did anything. She was so high that she just passed out for most of the day."

****_And the drinking and the fighting,_  
Just got worse every night.  
Behind their couch, she'd be hiding:  
Oh, what a sad little life.

"The more my dad drank, the worse the fights were. And I'd just sit there, behind our living room couch. And they were so involved in their fight, that they never knew I was there."

****_And like it always does, the bad just got worse,_  
With every slap,  
And every curse.  
Until her daddy, in a drunk rage one night,  
Used a gun on her mom,  
And then took his life.

"Of course it got worse. So much worse. Mum had bruises on top of healing bruises. Thirteen years ago tonight, Dad got really drunk. And in the middle of their, seemingly normal, fight Dad got really angry. I don't remember seeing him that angry, ever. He-he took out a gun, and he shot Mum. He killed my mum and then himself. And I just sat there, behind our couch the whole time."

****_And some people from the city,_  
Took the girl far away.  
To a new mom and dad:  
Kisses and hugs everyday.

"Our neighbors heard the gun fire, and they called the cops. They knew I existed, although they had never done anything before. They saw me outside a lot, and knew I never got hit or anything. So they never bothered to report my parents. But the gunshots scared them, I guess. The police came, and brought Child Services with them. They took me away, to a new family, the Evans's. And they showered me with affection. They knew I existed, they paid attention to me."

****_Her first day of Sunday school the teacher walked in,_  
And a small little girl,  
Stared a picture of Him.  
She said I know that man up there on that cross,  
I don't know His name,  
But I know He got off.

"The Evans's believed in God, and education. And all the things my real parents never did. I still remember seeing Jesus for the first time. It was my first Sunday School class. I had looked up above the teachers head, and saw Him hung on that cross. I knew who He was, and I felt special, intelligent, because I actually knew something.ï¿½

****_'Cause he was there in my old house_  
And held me close to His side.  
As I hid there, behind our couch,  
The night that my parents died.

"I told my teacher. And she asked how I knew, it was on my records that I had never attended anything religious, so she figured it was impossible that I did. Probably thought I was lying. I told her, and all the other kids, 'I know Him because he was with me, holding me, when my parents died.' He had been protecting me."

Finally finished, just as the clock struck midnight, Lily felt like a weight had been lifted. It felt good to finally be rid of that burden.

**End Notes:** This takes place sometime after January of Lily's seventh year, meaning she's eighteen. That makes her five when her parents died, which is around the time when children start Sunday School (at least, that's the age I started).


End file.
